


Meet Aiden

by SlenderLoris



Category: Original Work
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-19
Updated: 2015-12-19
Packaged: 2018-05-07 12:33:11
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,486
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5456666
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SlenderLoris/pseuds/SlenderLoris
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Aiden has responsibility for an 8 year-old girl and a missing best friend.  A mysterious curse is not what he wants to be dealing with right now.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Meet Aiden

**Author's Note:**

> yay!
> 
> I can't believe I'm actually posting this

Burrowed into the crags of Skellig Illan and stretching up towards the sky, Tra Turmon was a world onto itself. The sheltered side of the island, facing the main land, had been overtaken by a thick forest, but the town facing the sea was a sight to behold. Houses had sprung up in every free space on the island. The oldest ones stood proudly on the plateau, but the younger ones fought for any space they could find. Some were nestled overlooking white-capped waves in alcoves where long-ago rockslides had left holes in the cliff face, others were set at harsh angles, and some, after all other options had been exhausted, were stacked on top of each other, connected by a dense web of ladders and narrow stone stairs. The dirt roads themselves were no more ordered than the houses they connected. Roads meandered and then sharply doubled back on themselves, or abruptly ran into the walls of younger buildings. Tra Turmon was not a place where space went unused. Eventually, as the town swelled, the land itself could not constrain its growth. Lashed to docks and outposts strategically built into the cliffs, sturdy houseboats ringed first the island, then each other, as new families sailed for the island. 

Orange firelight blazed in every window, and its glow turned the surrounding waters a merry green. Subdued in evening gloom, one could only get the barest impression of color from the houses, but come morning, the town would be lit in its true riotous colors. Although the wind and waves left everything looking weathered and wind-beaten within months, not even the forces of Mother Nature could subdue Tra Turmon. The colors still told the stories of the city’s inhabitants. There were houses painted in vivid reds and pinks reminiscent of pearl caps to lure selkie wives home, bright greens and aquas for homesick nymphs, icy blue adorning the high cliffs where the shifters dwelt, and deep purples that marked the homes of the northern river spirts. And those were only the most common shades; oranges, magentas, and lime greens also adorned houses, if in smaller numbers. It was a colorful riot.

The diversity of the houses was matched only by the diversity of the people. Walking through the streets, one occasionally caught glimpses of striking women (and even more rarely, men) who were not quite human. Here were Rusalki with translucent skin and wet, gleaming blonde hair. Here were selkie woman, all extravagant curves and riotous curls, naked or draped with their own seal skin. Here were bird shifters, windburnt with unblinking black eyes and feathers for hair. Here were freshwater nymphs, tall and streamlined, with webbed fingers and hair tinted green.

But mostly, here were men fishing and gambling and building and watching the sea, waiting for their wives. Here were chubby children who seemed entirely ordinary, but for when they stared hungrily at the sea. Here were kids racing through the streets whose nut-brown skin and black hands were almost hidden by coats of spiky white hair. 

Here were the husbands and children of the sea folk. 

And Aiden. Who was not one of the heartbroken husbands awaiting the return of his bewitching wife. At all.

Also Deo, who was around. Somewhere. She had taken off running with what looked like a pack of selkie and shifter children, with a few parents tagging along good-naturedly. Or at least he hoped that was what those gulls were doing. Come to think of it, he wasn’t sure that they were shifters at all. He was reasonably confident they were. 

Regardless, she was having a good time, and it was good for her to have other children to play with. He had worried she wouldn’t like the crowded, energetic city, but she hadn’t stopped moving since they had set foot off the boat. She was busy learning all the innumerable nooks and crannies of the city and which baker gave the children playing by his store day old bread and where to find that fisher who would make the kids balls out of old sailcloth if they would help him untangle his nets. Far from overwhelmed, she seemed to know exactly where to go and how to find people, never pausing a second. Frankly, she seemed like she had lived in a city all her life. He wondered if she had, for all she never said anything when he tried to ask her where she came from. 

Aiden probably would have continued along that train of thought and possibly have even come to some rather relevant realizations, if fate, in the form of annoyed albatross, had not chosen that moment to intervene.

Shhuh-Flup

Aiden caught the fish that had been unceremoniously dropped on him on pure instinct. He stared at it mutely with something close to horror. That is, he though, that’s it, I’ve finally lost it. And then he scrambled to catch it, having squeezed the fish so hard it slipped out of his arms.

Having managed to grab the fish by its tail just before it flopped to the road, Aiden hugged it securely to his chest, as if it was the only thing that stood between him and absolute madness. At this point, he realized that everyone in his vicinity was staring at him. Goddam it Numeria, this is worse than Perge. He though, Go to the Rusalki she says. It’ll be safe she says. You won’t get assaulted by random falling fish she says. Or at least it was dam well implied.

He snorted, and took a deep breath. Chin up, chest out, he tried to compose himself. And was promptly slapped in the face by the thrashing fish for his troubles, but he tried. 

Everyone was still staring.

“Mister?” He looked down. It was a selkie girl, big black eyes staring at him in what he hoped was concern. “You need to send a message back? I can run it.”  
“Do I need to send a message back?” he parroted dumbly, mostly to give himself time to think. 

“Yeah! Like, d’ya wanna want to tell ‘em you can come later or something? I’ll run it over for a coupla pennies! I won’t forget a single word, I promise.” She grinned, revealing a mouth full of pointed teeth. Aiden warily regarded her, and then the fish. He realized he had a potential source of information.

“Does this…fish…necessitate a reply?” I just said that, he realized, I just asked if a fish required a reply,” For the albatross?” he hazarded. He winced. He could feel the judgment in the preteen’s eyes.

“The council pays the albatross, you don’t have too.” She said slowly, eyeing him.

“Ah.” He shifted his weight. The fish was heavy. “So this is a message from … the council?”

“It’s a flounder.” She paused, and when he failed to react properly to that bit of information, she sighed. Mustering up a look of patience appropriate for explaining things to helpless newcomers, she explained, “That means the council wants to see you.”

“What?! Why? I haven’t done anything. I’ve only been here a week!”

“That’s pro’ly why. They must’ve figured you’re stayin’ here awhile, and want to make sure you know what’s what.”

“So I should go meet them now?”

“If you wanna! But I can take a message for you, lickidy split.”

“Alright. Can you take me to the council instead? I’ll pay.”

“Sure!” She jumped up from her spot on the stoop with a grin, “C’mon, this way!” And with that she raced off. Aiden followed at as fast a pace as he could dignifiedly manage while holding the flounder.

She led him throughout a veritably maze of streets in upper town, and then down what must have mile of narrow, steep, slippery staircases until they were in the lower city. Aiden tightened his grip on the fish like a security blanket, then franticly tried to catch it as it slipped out of his arms again. Dignity, he reminded himself. I’m going for dignity.

“Um, miss?” he asked, realizing he hadn’t gotten the girl’s name.

“Yeah?” She turned back, still grinning. He noticed she had canines. 

“Are you sure this is the right way?”

“Course it is, what’s wrong with it?” She said defensively. 

“Its only…” he struggled with words for a second. “Isn’t this street a bit…wet?

The girl regarded their surroundings frankly.

“I don’t think so. If you ask me, the waters lookin’ a bit low. It’s been a dry month.” She said, nodding sagely. Worries put aside, she continued on.

And Aiden continued to follow her, struggling through the calf deep water covering the road.

After almost half an hour of walking though lower city, and just when Aiden thought he might collapse, she stopped in front of building. Only its color was notable, the single white house in a street painted in just as wild jewel tones as the rest of the town. Other than that, it was of average size, wide doors open to allow the water to flow through the lower story of the building.

“This is it!” she announced cheerfully, holding her hand out for her pennies. Aiden passed them to her wordlessly. She didn’t even look winded.

“I just…go in?” He asked.

“Yep!” She said. “Have fun!” With that she raced off.

Aiden stared at the doors a moment. Then he straightened up, squared his shoulders, and adjusted his grip on the flounder. Having composed himself, he walked into the Council’s meeting house.

Stepping into the house, he was in a foyer across from ornately carved wooden doors which, given the knee-high water, would likely be nearly impossible to open. He tugged on one of them lightly, then almost fell over as it swung open.

Or not.

The council themselves were seated at a raised table. All looked severe. Surprisingly, they were mostly men, and mostly human. There was a Rusalki woman to the far right, hair gently dripping onto the table, and he assumed the harsh looking man on the left who seemed to be made entirely of angles was a shifter, though his overlarge cap made it hard to tell for certain. The remaining four were human. All but one were male, and all had the worn, wind beaten look of a Tra Turmon’s permanent residents, all dressed in the uniform of the town: layers of blue and a glassy-eyed, empty look. There was also a young boy seated next the man at the center of the table, clearly the chairman, whom he bore a close resemblance too. The lad was alone amongst the humans with his alert eyes. He was also unique in his unruly shock of black hair.

Aiden had barely been in this city a week, and already he could recognize the distant look of men consumed with longing for sea-wives. He could see it in the eyes of every one of the men’s eyes, the woman’s too. The boy, the shifter, and the Rusalki alone seemed fully present. 

He shivered. The emptiness of those who pined for their far-away spouses made him deeply uncomfortable. Something was very much not right in this city.

None of the council said anything, staring at him. 

“I, ah, I received your fish,” he sputtered, his annoyance suddenly reasserting itself. He may have burst into a council without sending word ahead, but who summoned a man to a meeting with a flounder? Honestly, if they had bothered to train an albatross to deliver a fish, why not just have it drop of a note instead?

The boy nodded.

The council continued to stare at him. 

Finally, the man in the center of the table cleared his throat and squared his shoulders. “You’re the Druid, yes? The one that showed up with Dean’s boat last week? Got a little’un, dark skin, dark hair? That you?”

“Yes…” Aiden hazarded.

“Dean said you’re a proper Druid. Apprenticed’n all. He also mentioned you were missing a hand,” the man said, giving a significant look to the stump of what had been Aiden’s right hand.

“That is … true.” Aiden said, uncertain of where this conversation was going. The council members exchanged significant looks with each other.  
“Alright then. Let’s table the discussion about the Fowie’s access to the far dock fo’ now.” The chairman said to his companions, before turned to Aiden, “so you’re the lad staying in the Gibson’s spare room.”

Aiden said nothing. It wasn’t the sort of question that merited a reply.

“I ran into Dean Gibson in the pub last night, and he says you showed up out of the blue six days ago, and tried to rent for a month straight though.” The chairman cleared his throat. “Dean also said you speak Latin when you were talking to the girl.”

“I talked to Shawn Lorne too, he brought you over here. Said you were talking to a centurion on the mainland before getting on board. Said it go pretty heated too,” one of the other humans on the council broke in. He was a tanned, sinewy man, with leathery skin, as if all the fat had been melted off him by the sun. “What were you doin’ talking to one of them during times like these, boy?”

Enough was enough. Aiden pulled himself up to his full, imposing height, gripped the fish by the tail with his one good hand, and fixed the council man with his own imposing stare.

“Cut to the chase. Why am I here? Me and my charge are none of your business. Our business is our own, and we’ve done nothing to disturb the peace since we got here.”

“Isn’t she that new girl in the pack of kids that knocked over Samerson’s fish cart yesterday?” one of the older councilmen asked another, in what was likely supposed to be a conspirical whisper.

Aiden winced. “Kids will be kids.”

The old man startled, obviously surprised Aiden had heard him. “Of course, of course, children always get rambunctious. And there was quite a group of them.”

The man in the center cleared his throat. “Children’s shenanigans aside, you were summoned here for a reason. We need the services of a druid, and in return, we’ll give you a house and safe stay on the island.”

“We have a spare house?” Aiden heard one of the men whisper to another, and then the telltale intake of breath which said someone had kicked that man in the shin.

Aiden sighed. “What do you want?” 

Obviously expecting a more fawning reply, and annoyed at Aiden’s response, the man puffed up like a kicked cat. “Druid, we are offering you a chance to test your talents and prove your worth to this community – ,” Aiden feeling him building momentum for a blustering speech, and intervened.

“I don’t care. What do you want?”

“Listen here-“

“There’s a curse.” The old man said. Aiden turned to face him.

“What sort?"

“Eh, well, calling it a curse may be a bit strong. We aren’t actually sure what it is. There’s an area, on one of cliffs. It’s been there a long while, or so everyone thinks, but it was far off past the woods, on the beach. Nowhere it was any danger. But it’s been expanding, and now it intersects one of the roads. No one’s seen anything, but its there. And strong. Our people are going missing, and bodies are found.”

Aiden raised an eyebrow. He did not like the emphasis he was hearing on that word. “Bodies? Of the men who went missing?”

“N, that’s the thing. We find bodies, but it’s never our people. They just disappear. We’ve only lost men, and all human but for one shifter. We’ve found more woman’s bodies than humans, and none of the humans we found were recognizable. No shifter though. One was a selkie, but no one here’s wife. They’re a horrible sight, all rotten and full of holes.”

“No human woman?”

“None yet. But there aren’t many human woman on the island. That’s not all though. People are hearing things. Some say they can hear it from docs. Always coming from the far side of the island.”

“What things?” 

“Beautiful music, like a harp given human voice,” said one of the other men. He had the build of a fisherman accustomed to a harsh life on the waves, with frown lines to match, but his omnipresent scowl had lifted to what could only be described as a beatific expression. “Never have I heard such beautiful music. It is what my Una would sound like, if she sang.”

The Rusalki snorted. “The only ones who can go close are men, and they have a tendency to react like lovelorn idiots, and once they go in they disappear. Haven’t heard from any of them since. As for the rest of us, the sound is enough to make our ears’ bleed. “

“One of my people flew over it when returning to roost,” came the harsh, reedy voice of the Shifter. “He fell out of the air. He has not returned, nor do we dare approach. Already, it is becoming more difficult to take off from the island.”

The rest of the council members nodded understandingly, before fixing Aiden with a gaze which they probably thought could be classified as ‘imploring’. It was not flattering. Aiden took a step back.

“Get one of the men to search than. Can’t be that bad, you’ve already got one man whose heard it and come back.” Aiden said, shifting uncomfortably.  
“All of my comrades who have been approached, have not been able to stop themselves from entering the circle and never returning. Cory’s only still with us because Nathan dragged him back,” the chairman said, nodding at the boy.

“Well he could come back. Send him.”

“The Nathan is but a child-“The ‘child’ snorted at this. “But yes, as he escaped the pull once, we thought he could be your guide, you being a newcomer.”  
Nathan interrupted his father, leaning forward “I didn’t hear either of the things the adults heard. No heavenly chorus, no harp neither. Just a lady singing, nice, but not what I’d sell my soul to. Nothing I can’t get out of-“ Aiden tuned the boy out, turning to his father.

“I’ll do it.”

“Wonderful!” The boy interjected, cutting of his father. “I was thinking it’ll be best for us to set out tomorrow morning. First light and all. I’ve got a pack set up, and I’ve go a spare you can use, but you’ll need to get your own things, I can’t be in charge of you and-“

“Alone.”

“What?”

“I’ll do it, but alone. I don’t need a guide. It’s the main trail out of town? Starts by the docks, leads right?” he asked, looking at the Rusalki for confirmation.  
“It’ll be done. But I want that house. And license to practice here, unbothered. Guaranteed safety for my kid too, and any guests who might come visiting.”  
“Fair enough, to all but the last one.” The chairman said. “No Romans here, including your centurion friend. This is neutral land. We aren’t getting mixed-up in their bloody civil war.”

“Safe haven for guests. Do you have another Druid available?”

“We won’t have no Romans here,” the sinewy council man interjected, “Especially that sort! None of the rest of us will be safe with one of those on our island.”

“Me and mine keep to ourselves. But you’re stuck with a man-eating circle until I know my family will be safe here.” Aiden said, unyielding.

Whispered murmuring.

“We’ll accept your terms.” The councilman said. “But we want to know before any Romans are on our island, and that’s all assuming you get rid of the curse.”

“It’ll be done.”

With that, Aiden turned around and walked out, splashing mightily. 

~~~

The first thing Aiden did after climbing back up to the Upper town was find Deo. 

She was sitting on a roof in the upper reaches of the town when he found her. Her legs were dangling off the roof, and she was looking out on the ocean, seemingly oblivious to the enormous fall below her. From here, he could see the whole town, as if he was sitting on the edge of a bowl. Behind them rose the sheer icy blue walls of the shifters roost. 

Deo seemed more relaxed than he has ever seen her, staring out at the sea. Her elbows and knees were dirty, her clothes were dusty, and her previously neatly braided hair was forming a curly halo around her head, but she seemed happy. He gingerly settled down next to her. 

They sat there for a while. It was quiet, and peaceful, and he was content to let the moment stretch on. Deo was a good kid, but she was just a kid, and prone to tears and tantrums when stressed, which she has been almost constantly for the past several weeks. He hadn’t had many moments of calm with her, and he was happy to enjoy this one.

Deo, in the end, was the one to break the stillness. She gave an exaggerated shrug of her shoulders, stretched her legs and curled her toes, then jumped up. He too that as a cue.

Unlike her, he couldn’t just pop up after sitting for so long. His bones creaked as he stood up, and amused, Deo tugged on his elbow to help. He dusted himself off, and smiled when she parroted his actions. 

“Thank you for leaving a note for me,” he said in Latin as they walk over to the ladder. The note had been a surprise. He hadn’t actually been sure she could write, though he hadn’t been surprised. He was actually more shocked that she had learned all the town’s streets so quickly. He’d needed to ask directions several times to find her.

Deo grinned, and gave a little skip, tugging on his forearm. Apparently, a good mood didn’t necessitate a talkative one. He was amused at the way she had decided to cling onto him despite his lack of a spare hand. 

He led the two of them back the way he had came, pausing only briefly at a bakery. He’d come back here tomorrow. Whatever the councilman had said, fresh-baked bread could work wonders as often as not, and it was never a bad thing to have around. That reminded him –“Deo?  
She cocked her head to him to show she was listening, but didn’t turn to face him.

“If I follow the main street, will it take me to the docks we came here from? “ She nodded. “Good. I have the job to do tomorrow, will you be able to play with your friends from today?” She nodded again, not looking at him. He followed her line of vision – there was a flower seller outside an apothecary.  
“You like those?” He asked, nodding his head in the direction of the stall. She jumped and burrowed her head into his arm, almost hiding herself behind him. He sighed, and reached into his pocket for a half penny. “The room we’re in smells like fish. Buy something to fix that. I’ll be in the shop.” He told her, pressing the penny into her hand and walking off. 

She stilled, deliberating, than ran to the flower seller in a burst of speed. Aiden hid a smile while he watched her sniff each bouquet, and walked into the apothecary. 

A bell sounded as he pushed his way through the door. He sneezed the moment the musk of the shop hit him – an overpowering aroma of cedar, rosemary, and decay, with undertones of fish. Joy.

“Can I help you?” Came a feeble voice. Into the room shuffled a man whose face was as crumbled as the sacks of herbs on his shelves, despite his vibrant brown hair. Aiden wondered how old he actually was. He was yet to run into any men on the island who didn’t look old, though he wasn’t sure what the demographics of the island actually were. The island looked as though it was inhabited solely by children and old men, but Aiden suspected that many of them were far, far younger than they looked. Bewitchings had a way of sapping the life from their victims.

“Salt. Pure stuff, ground fine. Three ounces.” He hesitated. It didn’t hurt to be safe. “Moldable wax if you’ve got any.”  
Hmm? Mhmm” The man mumbled. “Yommgaaahsmm?”

“What?”

“I said, y’ got ah sack?” The man said, louder but still slurring his words.

“No. “

“Tha’s penny exta’”

“Fine.”

Aiden waited in increasingly impatient silence while the man puttered around his store, sniffing in jars and brushing of dust. Finally he filled a sack with salt and setting it down on the counter.

“Ther’ y’ ar’.” He said, picking up the coins Aiden set on the table infuriatingly slowly as Adien stuffed the sack of salt in a pocket.

“No wax?”

“Eh?”

“Wax. I asked if you had any wax.” Said aiden, raising his voice.

“I’ll chec’” The man said, turning back to his shelves. Aiden stared at him in detached fascination. It was like watching an insect trapped in sap.  
Suddenly, a familiar shout cut through the silence. Aiden was out the door without a second thought. 

It was Deo, but was grinning in delighted surprise instead of fright. She was sitting on the road now, the flower seller, a girl barely older than Deo herself, standing behind her, tucking bruised blossoms that had fallen off her wares into Deo’s thickly curly hair. Both children was smiling, and the girl seemed to be talking excitedly. Aiden relaxed. Deo caught sight of him, and gave an excited wave, her flower laden hair moving with her. He gave her a quick smile and nodded, and headed back into the shop. Whatever he thought of this island, at least it was safer than anywhere else they had been in the last month.

The man was still slowly gathering up a pitiful collection of waxen odds and ends. Aiden bent over to look at them. A few bits seem to have been chipped off from candle drippings, and several were definitely candle stubs, wick and all. There was also a few sticks of brittle red sealing wax. There was a log of what looked to be proper craft wax, wrapped in paper and only slightly dirty. A pitiful offering, but he would take what he could get, giving the man a coin and sweeping up the eclectic collection before pausing halfway out the door when a thought occurred to him. 

“Do you have paper?”

~~~

Later that night, while Deo lay fast asleep under the covers, Aiden went to work.

By the golden lamplight, Aiden sat on the floor of their rented room, and unpacked thBurrowed into the crags of Skellig Illan and stretching up towards the sky, 

The first thing he drew out was an overstuffed leather knapsack, which he set inform of him and started to unpack. Besides a cursory inspection, he ignored the vials of syrup of violet and distilled sunlight, setting aside jars of tinctures and salves after checking to make sure the vessels had not been damaged. Rare chemical treasures he checked on and then quickly repacked, lest they be damaged. He carefully examined his pouch of aether, making sure it hadn’t acquired any creases or tears from which the precious powders could escape. The plain wooden boxes of dried herbs he stacked on the far wall, where he could easily access them. He doubted he would need them, but he might, and no one but another Druid would realize they were worth stealing.

He examined his alchemic treasure trove. This was what he had brought with him when Numeria had swept in and informed him he had to leave, immediately, before the war reached him. His house he missed like he missed his hand, but with this, he could rebuild. 

He’d done it before.

Before he start planning the rest of his life however, he had a job, and he would do it right, even if his clients were a group of fools so completely bescrolled that he doubted that they would notice if he didn’t. Aiden was relatively sure that if he went down to the circle, sprinkled some salt, and called it a day, and showed them back one of the dragon teeth he wore for luck, he would still be able to convince them he had slain a monstrous beast. He was tempted, but it was too big a risk. Hiring an itinerate healer required quite a bit of trust on the side of the locals, and Aiden needed to build that trust now.

Admittedly, the prospect of living on an island where an ancient curse was actively targeting the population wasn’t that appealing either.

Aiden picked up the knapsack, pulling out the rope and books he has been storing in it. Apparently empty, it sagged sadly upon itself. The bag, however, was far from exhausted. Removing the false liner, Aiden grinned. To this day, he had carried this innocent looking knapsack with him across several borders, through a bandit attack, and into a prison. It had even fooled Numeria’s scrutiny the first time she had examined it (though not the second). He counted it among his best work.

The bag was completely lined with pockets. They ranged from large to small, varying in construction and material. The only thing they all had in common was that they has been made to lay as flat as possibly, totally indistinguishable from the outside.

This was what Aiden thought of as the tools of his trade, and Numeria referred to as his security blanket. It was filled with everything he considered absolutely vital for survival. Here he had his knife, salt, a notebook, flash powder, sewing supplies, iron fillings, three different currencies, bandages, elm wood spikes, even a vial of paralytic. More pockets were unfilled. 

Some objects, like the sewing kit, Aiden always left in his pack. Others, like the syrup of violets he was measuring into a small vial, he added for particular jobs. Today he added only the syrup of violets and sack of mirrored discs, before reexamining the contents of his basic kit.

The circle the council had described – the singing, the disappearances, the unfamiliar bodies – that all sounded like the siren. Aiden personally disliked sirens. But it was a very personal vendetta, and he could admit that whatever their other flaws, they were very easy to banish. Iron, and salt were all that was needed to drive most away, and the threat of fire would terrify them. Add a ring of charcoal around the island’s shores and it would be enough to scare one off presently. This job would be a piece of cake.

~~~~

Aiden awoke ias the first gentle predawn rays of light streamed in through the window. After checking that his charge was still sleeping soundly, he slipped out the door. As he walked out into the city, he tried to fit the loaf of bread into his knapsack among the pouches of powder and carefully wrapped parcels he had filled it with. Hopefully, he wouldn’t even need it to deal with the siren, and would be able to save it for his and Deo’s dinner later. He set out along the main road, the sunrise coloring the clouds orange and gold.

This was no witching hour. The town of Tra Turmon was, at its heart, a fishing town, and the docks were at their busiest before sunrise. The few night fishers were trickling in, nets filled with octupi, and the rest of the men were setting out for the day’s work. Despite the vibrant greens and golds of the sea at sunrise, the docks seemed weirdly muted. The dull sea-husbands soaked up the energy of the early day and reflected none of it back. 

The thick foggy island mornings were a new experience for him, but in the end it wasn’t so different from the cloudy mountains and rain of his home. Not as clear and crisp, and reeking of fish, but it could be worse. His cloak was thick enough to keep of the damp touch of the mist. As he walked past the docks, he was glad for his cloak again – or more specifically, its nondescript appearance. It was well-worn if well cared for, and could have belonged to any islander. As such, when he turned a bend to see the boy from the council – Nate? Hathen? – standing eagerly in wait, overstuffed bag of- what was it, camping supplies? - at his feet, Aiden was able to duck his head and hurry past without making eye contact. With Deo, Aiden could no longer deny that he was occasionally a babysitter, but there was a world of difference between a little girl entrusted to him by a friend and a teenager’s overgrown ego. A world of difference.

Aiden continued down the road as it turned down from the cliff-face town to run along the docks, continuing as it became thinner and thinner, until the thoroughfare was not more than a winding path. It turned away from the rocky cliffs, into the dark green woods. Here, the Aiden could finally breathe again. The air was tasted of magic. Not the stale bitterness of bewitchments which permeated the town, but of dark, green, growing magic. This was not a forest to walk alone at night, unless you were one of the things that thrived on the raw energy of the forest. And Aiden was.

The dusky path was ill-maintained and overgrown, and the farther Aiden walked, the more he felt as if he was among the paths of his childhood. There were differences, of course. But the feeling was the same. By the time the sun was high in the sky, Aiden was deep in the forest.

The singing started not long after. It started as the barest humming in his ear. For all that the most immediate thing it reminded him of was a gnat, he could admit that it had a weirdly invigorating energy. It wasn’t what he was expecting – in his experience, the voices of the siren tended to the seductively hoarse. Still, not too different than expected.

At this point Aiden got out his knife. Unlike the bits he’d seen in the apothecary’s shop, this was a true witches’ knife, iron blade honed to a point and strategically interlaid with lines of silver. There was a single hole drilled into the blade, and another in the elm grip. Using a grooved wooden block and twine he had brought along for this express purpose, he expertly tied the knife, blade out, to the inside of his right arm. The block was fitted over the handle and wrapped around with string, making sure the blade was immobilized. He tested it, lowering his arm to his side. The knife was unyielding. If he kept his arm tense, it wouldn’t bite him, but it required constant vigilance. Satisfied, he used another length of string to immobilize the entire right arm so it could not move from his side. This done, he continued on.

The singing grew louder as he continued on. Still wordless, he could hear slippery, organic melodies moving in and out of the song, echoed but never repeated, strangely mesmerizing. Before long, it drowned out all other sound he could hear, as if he was underwater.

When Aiden noticed that he was walking faster toward the source of the singing, he stopped himself. He pulled out the stick of wax from his pack, and shaped to plugs from it before replacing it in his pocket. From his pack, he drew out a coiled length of rope terminating in an intricately knotted loop. He slipped the loop around his waist and tightened it, then wrapped other end of the rope around a sturdy looking tree before single handedly tying it off. He has a significant leash – but he would not be able to free himself without coming back to the tree. He took off his cloak, folded it, and placed it at the base of the tree, along with his knapsack.

Out of his pack, he drew out the bread, a dull knife, and several paper twists. The twists he placed in his left pocket. He cut off the heel of the bread, and then another thick slice. He wrapped the remainder of the loaf back up in its cloth, and returned it in to his pack. The smell of fresh bread was appealing, and he quickly ate the heel he had cut off, glancing regretfully at the slice he still held. Then he continued on along the path.

That was the last thing he remembered before he felt the knife cutting his side. 

He shook himself awake. He focused on tensing his arm, keeping the knife from biting into his skin again. He was still on the path, but he was down to the last coil of the rope. He tied a sloppy knot with it, effectively anchoring himself in place. He looked around. 

He was still on the road, and he was a scant thirty or forty feet away from the tree the other end of the rope was tied to, though his mind rebelled from even the thought of walking away. He was in a clearing, dark and damp and free of even moss, surrounded by the forest stretching out in every direction. A stream flowed through the clearing before disappearing back into the forest. 

Though he was doing his best to ignore it, the song was still echoing in his head. Head pounding, Aiden looked down at his side. While the knife had cut at such an angle that the wound was shallow, it was bloody, so the shirt was sticking to his side. The cut went through his shirt and into his side, leaving threads in the long cut. He shuddered. That was going to be fun to clean out later.

He pulled the plugs of wax out of his pocket. Now that he was clearly in the siren’s lair, he wouldn’t need to risk himself to the siren’s song without protection. He pushed each into his ear best he could. They were imperfect, and he could still here the song, but the compulsion was significantly weaker. Oddly, his fatigue did not fade, nor did he seem to be able to turn back. He frowned. Siren’s charms rarely worked unless you could hear the song in full.

He looked back. Just behind him, cutting across the road at the edge of the tree line, was a line of mushrooms.

His mouth dried.

He pulled a paper twist out of his pocket, pouring the salt into his hand.

“I’m here. What do you want?”

Even with the wax in his ears, he could sense the song growing louder, like pressure on his mind. 

He turned his head toward the stream.

Out of the river was coming a steely eyed and grey-skinned woman, full lips parted to show rows of needle sharp teeth. Pushing herself up from the riverbed, the she hauled herself up. Languidly standing, she shook her short, spiky hair dry before smoothing it down. Rooted to the spot, he was splattered with water. He darted his tongue out to taste a drop. It was musty and oily from her hair, but undoubtable fresh. How…

Then he saw the blood.

He wouldn’t have noticed his she hadn’t raised her arm to fix her hair. A deep stab wound on the underside of her arm, straight into her chest. The skin was sewn back together crudely. Besides that, the wounds had clearly never been tended, blackening around the edges. Poking through the decaying flaps of skin, Aiden could see the dirty white bone of her uppermost rib.

Done preening, the siren turned to face Aiden. Her metallic grey eyes were alert and watchful, but it was as if the rest of her face was dead. Her mouth was slack, and she did not seem able to move her neck, moving her whole body instead. Her skin was beaded with viscous liquid, like oozing drops of honey.

This was not a siren.

As she drew closer to him, Aiden, still unable to move away, realized that her smell was sharp and wet, like breathing fog. He superstitiously inhaled another whiff. This time, he caught the barest hint of rot under the overpowering scent of fresh water rapids, but that was it. Something was very wrong here.  
Transfixed by the bizarre creature, Aiden almost didn’t realize he could no longer hear the singing. Almost. He stood stock still, unwilling to risk her realizing her mistake. There seemed to be little chance of that, as the siren was focusing all her attention on approaching. She had long, webbed feet gracefully branching off her legs, and her delicate ankles were clearly not meant to support her body’s weight. Her balance was awkward and visibly painful.

Aiden had never seen anything more grotesque.

She stepped toward him.

He lashed out.

Aiden bodily knocked her over. She was heavier than she looked, all muscle like a seal, but Aiden was still at least a hundred pounds heavier and a foot and a half taller, and he pushed her over like a stone. The impact with the ground was jarring, and the siren’s body was hard and unyielding. Aiden grinned in triumph.

Then he realized his skin was burning. 

He rolled off her, franticly wiping his arms on his shirt, his pants, anything to get rid of the burning, but that only made it worse. His arms felt as if they were on fire. Trying to get away, he stumbled up, panicked and clumsy, and then he saw the river. The cool, dark water. He immediately staggered toward it, driven toward by the horrible, horrible burning. He was almost to it, staring down into the water…

…into yellow eyes staring back at him.

He lurched backwards. Even out of his mind by the fiery pain, he knew what awaited him in the river.

He stumbled away, inadvertedly cutting himself further with the knife tied aground his arm. His skin was screaming, begging for relief. He was looking for something, anything, the scrape whatever was burning him off his skin, when he felt a tugging on his waist.

He scrambled away, and was yanked back equally hard. He reached down to push away what ever was pulling him back, and his hand closed on a thick rope. It was the tether he had tied around his waist. The rope was coarse and scratchy, and it was perfect. Aiden frantically started using it to scrape away at his arms, trying to get rid of whatever acid was burning him. Dimly, he was aware that he needed to use fresh stretches of rope, not to spread the poison further all over his body, but the rope was already stretched tight. So he pulled himself forward, one handed, along the rope, desperately trying to wipe away the burning sensation. 

He didn’t even notice when he stumbled over the ring of mushrooms back into the forest.

Imminently, the pain lessened. His arms still burned, but it was manageable now. His head cleared.

He turned back to the circle. The siren – or whatever it was – was watching him. It hadn’t stood up but had turned its slack face so he was looking right into it’s steely eyes. They stared at each other, and then it opened its mouth, and started to sing.

Aiden turned tail and ran.

~~~

Aiden remembered nothing between fleeing a waking up, cheek pressed into the dirt. His eyes were closed, but he could tell he was in a clearing, from the smell of earth and the warmth of the sun on his legs. Despite how comfortable it felt to lie there, on the soft ground and in the warm sun, but he felt a current of unease. He reluctantly forced open his eyes.

Aiden had never considered himself a proud man. He’d never really gotten a chance to – growing up in the Imperial Guard’s compound had a way of beating humility into everyone, with the possible exception of Numeria. Nonetheless coming back into consciousness and recognizing a familiar shock of black hair smarted his ego. 

Nathan was sitting with his back to Aiden, seemingly still under the impression Aiden was out cold. His initial assessment, that he was in a clearing, had been correct. He seemed to have collapsed by tree, his pack having been moved to the side of him, presumably by the Nathan. The boy has also presumably moved him into something resembling resting position, which he was begrudgingly impressed by. He shifted his focus back to Nathan, who was clearly doing something. He was sitting down, and had pulled out several vials -

“Don’t touch that!” 

Aiden tried to push himself up, and promptly regretted it. His arms burned. They felt raw, as if someone had grated of his skin.

“Don’t get up yet!” Nathan cried, whirling around, nearly knocking over a vial. “You’re arms are all burned up!” He reached out to steady the vial, motion upsetting another one in turn.

“Be careful!” Aiden said, hoarsely. “For god’s sake, do let that break if you care to breathe at all.” He coughed weakly. His throat felt like sandpaper. 

“What?! I was just trying to –“ Clearly surprised that Aiden was awake, Aiden made a fumbling aborted attempt to grab something out of Aiden’s pack, almost knocking the entire thing over in his haste.

“Just stop moving,” Aiden barked. Nathen froze. “Ok. Now, carefully move those bottles out of your immediate vicinity.”

Nathan slowly picked up each bottle and placed each on his far left, and then scooted a bit the right. He looked shell-shocked, whether from Aiden’s rapid reawakening or from being shouted at Aiden couldn’t tell.

“Good. Thank you.” Aiden said slowly. Nathan nodded. “I’m sorry I had to yell, but those are dangerous. If you were to spill them, you could get seriously hurt,” Aiden explained slowly, trying not to further frighten the young man. Nathan was silent, eyes slightly wide, and looking ever so slightly hurt. Aiden sighed internally. “Did any of them spill on you?” 

Nathan shook his head.

“Good. Alright.” Aiden tried to push himself up into a sitting position. He gasped in pain. Each movement put his burned arms in contact with the remnants of his shirt, and it felt as if his skin was being scraped with burning bark. His side choose that moment to remind him, forcefully, that he had a stab wound. His muscles were fatigued too, protesting every movement. Nathan’s eyes were the size of saucers, and he made a move as if to help. Aiden grit his teeth and pushed himself up in a single, agonizing movement before he could convince himself not to. He let out a slow breath, making eye contact with the boy, trying to project calm. “Now. What happened?”

“It – I-,” Nathan started, fumbling. His eyes could not possibly get wider, and he was breathing suspiciously fast.

“Breathe kid,” Aiden said, not unkindly. “It’s alright. Just breathe.” Nathan nodded frantically, before sitting back and visibly taking several deep breaths. “Now there is no rush, but I need to know what happened. Can you tell me, in order, how you got here, and how you found me?”

“I, ah, yes.” Nathan said, still calming himself. “I didn’t – I was waiting for you, this morning, to take you down to the circle, like the council said, but I didn’t see you and I was there for at least an hour or two – “

“I left early, I must have missed you,” Aiden lied smoothly. “That’s fine. What happened after that? Why were you in the woods?”

“Its – I figured if you hadn’t shown up you wouldn’t – and someone had to do something. I thought I would just see if I could get another look at it, since it didn’t ensnare me last time-"

“You wanted to take it down yourself?”

“I thought it was just a siren! I know about them – my ma told me. Most of the kids here know how to get rid of stuff like that – I figured that’s why only the adults were going missing. They are all already half bewitched, and they don’t know anything about the sea folk. Sirens are easy. My ma said if you encounter one, wave some iron or a torch around and then scatter salt where they were. But what the hell was that? You’re burnt. Ma said Sirens can sing and that’s it. She didn’t say nothin’ about no acid!” The veneer of calm had slowly seeped out of Nathans voice as he spoke, and his shoulders had grown tense. He stood up abruptly and started pacing around the clearing, forcing Aiden to turn his head to follow him. That was not entirely comfortable.

“And I’ve got everything. I’ve got iron candlesticks, and salt, and a torch, and flint to light, and everything, I even brought kindling just in case and I’m almost there, and then I trip over you. I’m being honest here, I literally tripped over the rope you had tied around yourself – also what was that? I figured you came out here and got bewitched. But I lean down to see why you are lying like a drunk man instead of disappeared, and then I realize you are covered in burns. Your arms look like you were hugging a jellyfish. And you were stabbed. I pulled you out of the road and untied you, but you wouldn’t wake up, so I was looking to see if you had anything medicine-y in your bag. I tried to put pressure on the cut, and it stopped bleeding, but you need help, I don’t know what happened but you need a healer, and what was that- “

“I can take care of my wounds,” Aiden said, cutting Nathan off before he could truly work himself back up. “I have taken care of much worse. This isn’t a problem.”

Nathan nodded, but continued to practically vibrate with restrained energy. 

Aiden looked at him.

The kid looked like he was either about to explode or start crying.

Aiden resigned himself to being a babysitter.

“Would you please give me a hand up?” He said, in what he thought was probably a confident voice. “I’m slightly indisposed.”

Nathan perked up immediately. Aiden bit his cheek to hide his amusement.

“ I have bandages in the outer pocket to the left – no your left. But first I need salve to put on these burns, its in the largish container in the inner pocket – not that one the other one – no that’s not a large container –“


End file.
